Greaves shifted behind her, jaw tightening. He disliked Harvesters’ cryptic ways as much as I did.
“Then I shall meet this Anna of Sol.” I sighed, opening the scroll. “Pray it isn’t a waste of time, Seliora, or I’ll have you removed from service.”
She offered another bow and took a step. “I will be ready to lead at your call.”
I nodded my dismissal. When the canvas fell behind her, I turned to Fallione, frowning. “Why is she here?”
“She is a Harvester.” His brows dipped, eyes narrowed in thought.
“And do you think it wise to have a Harvester in camp, possibly controlled by a Cruor?” They were subtle, deadly. Far worse than any threat a Thresher posed. “Did you approve her company?”
“The Harvesters flanked the army, spread out, each keeping to themselves. My apologies, I was unaware of her gender.”
“Bring me their commander. I want to speak with him.”
Fallione rose, color in his cheeks. He knew the risk.
Nienna would remain far behind our lines. Freya with her. Sending a woman into Velli territory? Unthinkable. They didn’t even aid our battle medics. It was too easy to forget.
When he returned, a man in common armor followed. He appeared no different from an ordinary soldier at first glance: tousled hair, crooked nose broken and never reset.
“My king.” He bowed deep, dark eyes flashing with questions. “Galeth, at your service.”
“Did you approve adding Seliora to our ranks?”
“Yes.”
“And did you consider she’s a woman heading into a Velli nest?” I leaned forward, anger sharpening my frown.
“She is a valuable asset,” he replied, unwavering. “Her addition benefits the mission.”
“When was her last cycle?”
Blood. It always came down to blood. Velli sensed it miles away. And if she didn’t burn her rags—risking a fire in enemy territory—they could track her and take control.
Something in his gaze sharpened, a passing shadow of rage. “She is without them.”
“And if her body decides now is the time to heal?” Some women skipped months before cycles returned. The last thing I needed was for it to start without warning.
“Her reproductive organs have been removed, Your Majesty.” Galeth’s voice came even, as if he were stating the sky’s color. “She cannot bleed.”
My throat constricted with surprise. They cut out her womb? My ignorance of the sacrifices Harvesters made—the horrors endured—sent unease prickling through me.
I leaned back, studying him. He remained impassive, silent. If she could not bleed, she posed no greater risk than any man.
But at what cost?
“When she returned, was she searched?”
“Stripped and cleansed, Your Majesty.”
The wrongness gnawed at me. It was one thing for a man to strip in front of another, searching for open wounds. Gods, the extent of those searches… But a woman? Subjected to such demands? I had to trust it occurred before peers. Her bow, her posture, told me she wanted equality. She had earned her title. Endured for it. I wouldn’t take that from her.
“If she passed your inspection, I will go with her—but I expect her to be treated as any man, with the respect due a fellow Harvester.”
“Our ways are our own, but we are equals. Seliora is well-suited to our mission.” He dipped his head.
I swallowed, staring over her report. I wasn’t the only one making sacrifices to defeat Vellos.
